


In the Dream

by Liar_of_Lesbos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:43:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liar_of_Lesbos/pseuds/Liar_of_Lesbos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin Tran only had a few things he wants of life--mostly for his girlfriend to be alive and to not be slowly killing himself with work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dream

In his dreams, Kevin Tran is happy. He is playing the violin, delicate instrument vibrating with the controlled movements of his hands, luxurious and intricate sounds multiplying around him. His mother and Channing are relaxing in bamboo armchairs a few feet away, chatting about the trivial things: grocery lists and AP classes and Kevin’s terrible hairstyle. They barely listen to the noise that Kevin makes, but they know he is here, as they snicker nearly in tune with the music.  
  
The door is soundly shut beside him. He is at peace.  
  
Kevin Tran hates his dreams.  
  
There is always that moment where the total peace is ripped away, and Kevin must thrust open his eyes to face the dull gray roof that is a part of his new home. For a second, he stays in bed and counts the inconsistencies between dream and reality. His violin is locked up in an impounded warehouse where dust slowly collects on strings meant for beauty. Channing had her neck snapped, clean and brutal by a demon with Kevin’s name on his lips. He sent his own mother away since he didn’t deserve her care or comfort, since he couldn’t handle the weight of not disappointing her when he already had a world to save. The door is always open to the two men who will deliver him greasy food and empty smiles and the whole world to carry on his scrawny shoulders.  
  
Kevin slops out of bed, heading directly to the table hidden beneath piles of papers. His life is labour now; he gets that. It is staring at a tablet all day, trying to figure out what the hell God is trying to tell him on cool slabs of rock.  
  
Which brings Kevin back to a question he's been asking himself a lot in these moments: Why is God doing this to him. To the world. If God is this almighty creator, this omnipotent maker of angels, demons, and humans alike, the one who knows how to turn off all the switches and set the world straight, then why isn't he doing it himself? Why is he leaving it to an under-prepared teenager and two severely maladjusted adults? Can't he, you know, get his shit together and smite Crowley and maybe straighten up his girlfriend's neck while he's at it?  
  
But God isn't here apparently. God would rather shove his responsibilities off on some kid and let him decipher his ancient scripture (which, honestly? Isn't even written that well. You'd think the ultimate creator could create some top-notch vocabulary for this purpose). Kevin sees that, and always makes his eyes wander back down to the great stone piece of shit because he has duty or whatever. He’s glad now that he’s never been religious, never had the time in the whirlwind of activity that used to be his life. It would be even worse to confront belief in the kind God it seems everyone believed in with all of this clear bullshit.  
  
So, with the whole load out in front of him, Kevin has pretty much accepted his suffering. Accepted the nausea, the pain, the hunger, the self-hatred, the boredom, the fear. He just lets it all wash over him in one endless flood of dreary nothingness.  
  
The only thing that keeps him from drowning in that meaninglessness are those fucking dreams. Those measly instants of happiness, the smiling faces of the two women who meant it all to him; they keep his head just above the tide and sometimes Kevin hates them bitterly for it. It would just be so much easier to give himself over to the ocean of despair. He might not be happy, sure, but at least he wouldn't have to feel. That's better than now…  
  
Right?


End file.
